I stumbled across this while doing some research today:
"The arrival of the 21st century was marked by a shift from shared social responsibility to support and create better opportunities for the poor, to an expectation that schools and teachers almost entirely alone should raise all students' achievement and narrow the gaps between them. What we need is a strong public investment not just in education, but also in housing, medica care, social services, and community development. The community should take back the playgrounds and the streets as part of the very fabric of democratic life" (Hargreaves & Shirley).
Very well said, I think. With the recent public interest in the charter school issue, I find this even more pertinent. Generally, the public (and I mean no offense) knows nothing about charter schools--how they began, why they began, how they work, etc. The documentary "Waiting for Superman" offers distorted information regarding public education and leads the public into believing that public education is a train wreck and that charter schools are the answer.
What the public fails to realize is that charter schools are schools that must comply with the same regulations as public schools. They must be staffed with the same licensed teachers and administrators, and the schools must offer the same prescribed curriculum as the states in which they reside.
What we as a public MUST do is invest in our children and in our communities. Allowing the private sector to fund public education is a huge mistake. A businessman or corporate investor who went to college and obtained a degree is NOT qualified to make decisions regarding our children's education. I went to college and obtained THREE degrees (and counting), and that does not qualify me to build a road, perform open-heart surgery, or design a house. It does, however, qualify me to teach children. Furthermore, it qualifies me to have an opinion regarding the education of all children.
Investing in our children and communities means that we support our schools, support our teachers, and support those in our communities who are unable to support themselves.
I have often heard that we should not be held responsible for those in our communities who may be unable to support themselves. Without an education, though, how are they ever expected to break the cycle and become contributing members of society?
Many of you know me well, and you know I have a very strong opinion concerning every child having the right to a quality education. The solution is simple (and I know that many of you will disagree). We should:
1. Ensure that all children have access to pediatric and dental care in school-based clinics...not in crowded, free clinics where the lines are long and the care may be sub-par;
2. Ensure that all families have a decent place to live...and yes I'm talking about rent-controlled and government subsidized housing;
3. Ensure that all schools provide higher quality early childhood care and education programs so that low-income children are not parked in front of televisions;
4. Increase the minimum wage so that families of low-wage workers have less strain and stress; and
5. Fund after-school programs so that low-income children spend fewer nonschool hours in dangerous environments and spend more time developing their cultural, artistic, and athletic potential.
Children don't ask to be born. How can we not give them all a fighting chance?
There. I've said my piece. I have plenty more to say regarding this subject, but I'll save it for another time.
**If you're as interested as I am in social justice in education, then check out the work of Richard Rothstein and Hargreaves & Shirley.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
A New Opportunity...
The last few weeks have been a bit of a whirlwind. Finishing up summer school at Crestwood Intermediate, working on a major project involving the revised English SOLs for 2010, writing curriculum for a local community agency's transition program, and pinning down solid research for a huge paper--all of the above has kept me very busy to say the least. The summer is practically gone and I haven't really experienced "summer" in the way that I am usually able.
Needless to say, when a job interview fell into my lap a few weeks ago, I was not only caught off guard, but also a bit apprehensive. I got the call on a Wednesday afternoon and had the interview scheduled for the next day; consequently, I didn't have much time to think too much about it. The position that I interviewed for--Instructional Skills Specialist--seemed to be a perfect fit for me. The job entails quite a bit, including working with new teachers hired in Chesapeake, running the mentor program, in servicing substitutes, and most importantly--working with teachers who have been recommended for performance improvement.
I have always been strong in instruction and have always enjoyed working with teachers, so I thought, "Why not go ahead and just interview?" I had really hoped that an administrative position would come my way this summer, but due to budget and "it just not being the right time," it just didn't happen. I never considered doing anything besides teaching or working in administration, so I was a bit cautious about pursuing a central office position. Because of the encouragement of family and my amazing principal, however, I went ahead and interviewed for the position.
To make a long, harrowing story much shorter, the interview went very well. I felt really confident about the whole experience until the end--when they told me they were interviewing 27 people for the position. I wasn't sure of how I measured up next to 27 other qualified people in the city, so I put the interview behind me and didn't give it much thought.
I was very surprised to get the call last week informing me that I had landed the position. I was shocked, but it also was really incredible to know that I was moving into a new direction professionally. I am so excited to get started and do something completely different!
I have hesitated to say anything about my new position, however, because with the excitement over my job opportunity also comes a great deal of sadness. I have been a teacher for FOURTEEN years--and I am totally in love with teaching. I rarely have those "I don't want to go to work days." I ALWAYS want to go to work--especially since teaching at Grass field High School. Grass field has been the most amazing place I have ever worked--the best administrators, the best colleagues, and the best students I have ever worked with. I have felt a part of something special at Grass field, and I can't help but feel like I'm losing something very important.
I felt like a Face book status update was the wrong forum for announcing my job change, and I didn’t want to send out an email, either. I finally settled on a blog post because I could at least attempt to express my mixed emotions a bit better. I've already spent some time crying with "Mama Griz," who assures me that this is a great professional move and something that I must do. I do feel a bit better now that the shock has passed and a week has gone by. I am not feeling better, though, about telling my colleagues--my friends and some of my most favorite people. I will miss you terribly, and I am already sad about missing back-to-school week, lunches out, tailgating and football games, and meeting new students. Hell, I'm even sad about missing PTA Open House! All of these things have been a part of my life for a decade a half.
Some might think I am overreacting; however, I am going to hide behind this blog post rather than call anyone to let them know I am not returning. I hope to see many of you before school starts and things really start to get crazy again (although I've been going 100 miles an hour since school ended in June).
Now I just have to figure out how I'm going to move out of my classroom and the workroom without literally falling apart.
Needless to say, when a job interview fell into my lap a few weeks ago, I was not only caught off guard, but also a bit apprehensive. I got the call on a Wednesday afternoon and had the interview scheduled for the next day; consequently, I didn't have much time to think too much about it. The position that I interviewed for--Instructional Skills Specialist--seemed to be a perfect fit for me. The job entails quite a bit, including working with new teachers hired in Chesapeake, running the mentor program, in servicing substitutes, and most importantly--working with teachers who have been recommended for performance improvement.
I have always been strong in instruction and have always enjoyed working with teachers, so I thought, "Why not go ahead and just interview?" I had really hoped that an administrative position would come my way this summer, but due to budget and "it just not being the right time," it just didn't happen. I never considered doing anything besides teaching or working in administration, so I was a bit cautious about pursuing a central office position. Because of the encouragement of family and my amazing principal, however, I went ahead and interviewed for the position.
To make a long, harrowing story much shorter, the interview went very well. I felt really confident about the whole experience until the end--when they told me they were interviewing 27 people for the position. I wasn't sure of how I measured up next to 27 other qualified people in the city, so I put the interview behind me and didn't give it much thought.
I was very surprised to get the call last week informing me that I had landed the position. I was shocked, but it also was really incredible to know that I was moving into a new direction professionally. I am so excited to get started and do something completely different!
I have hesitated to say anything about my new position, however, because with the excitement over my job opportunity also comes a great deal of sadness. I have been a teacher for FOURTEEN years--and I am totally in love with teaching. I rarely have those "I don't want to go to work days." I ALWAYS want to go to work--especially since teaching at Grass field High School. Grass field has been the most amazing place I have ever worked--the best administrators, the best colleagues, and the best students I have ever worked with. I have felt a part of something special at Grass field, and I can't help but feel like I'm losing something very important.
I felt like a Face book status update was the wrong forum for announcing my job change, and I didn’t want to send out an email, either. I finally settled on a blog post because I could at least attempt to express my mixed emotions a bit better. I've already spent some time crying with "Mama Griz," who assures me that this is a great professional move and something that I must do. I do feel a bit better now that the shock has passed and a week has gone by. I am not feeling better, though, about telling my colleagues--my friends and some of my most favorite people. I will miss you terribly, and I am already sad about missing back-to-school week, lunches out, tailgating and football games, and meeting new students. Hell, I'm even sad about missing PTA Open House! All of these things have been a part of my life for a decade a half.
Some might think I am overreacting; however, I am going to hide behind this blog post rather than call anyone to let them know I am not returning. I hope to see many of you before school starts and things really start to get crazy again (although I've been going 100 miles an hour since school ended in June).
Now I just have to figure out how I'm going to move out of my classroom and the workroom without literally falling apart.
Monday, June 28, 2010
10 Things to Know About Elementary School Children
So last week I began working as a summer school administrator in order to fulfill my requirements for my administrative license. I have almost fifteen years of experience with middle and high-schoolers, in addition to almost two years of college-level experience; however, I have NO experience with elementary-aged children.
Last week was pretty easy--lots of paper pushing, schedule-making, planning, and preparation for the first day of summer school. That day was today, and from about 7:15 to about 2:30, I learned more about elementary-aged children than I could ever learn from any classes, textbooks, or my own parenting skills.
Here's what I learned:
1. Small children cry...A LOT. I'm a parent, and have been for almost thirteen years. But those thirteen years did not prepare me for the amount of tears I saw today.
2. Small children know more about where they are supposed to go after school than do their parents. They informed me today of their babysitters' phone numbers, day care facility names and numbers, and grandmothers' cell phone numbers when their own mothers could not. Amazing.
3. Small children do not eat their lunch; they play with it. They stick fruit and cheese into their straws, spill their milk, eat only their snack, and throw the healthy stuff away.
4. In addition to playing with said lunches, children cannot open milk cartons, sandwich bags, or any plastic containers. I think I opened more cartons, packages, and containers in one day than I have in the last five years.
5. Small children need their shoes tied, faces wiped, and pants pulled up after leaving the restroom. Repetitively.
6. Small children get lost during the short walk from their classroom to the bathroom across the hall.
7. Small children are incredibly happy (when they aren't crying). They get happy about everything--walking to class, turning in attendance and sundry other duties, eating lunch, and especially about learning.
8. Small children love their teachers. It's like love at first sight. They just met their teachers today and were only with them for four short hours; yet, close relationships are already forming.
9. Small children are very funny. They find everything funny. They laugh loudly and from their bellies. It is amazing.
10. Small children give out a lot of hugs--unashamedly. They hug everyone--teachers, cafeteria staff, custodians, and office staff. I have to admit, the hugs were by the far the highlight of my day.
I think the little guys are going to grow on me very quickly.
Last week was pretty easy--lots of paper pushing, schedule-making, planning, and preparation for the first day of summer school. That day was today, and from about 7:15 to about 2:30, I learned more about elementary-aged children than I could ever learn from any classes, textbooks, or my own parenting skills.
Here's what I learned:
1. Small children cry...A LOT. I'm a parent, and have been for almost thirteen years. But those thirteen years did not prepare me for the amount of tears I saw today.
2. Small children know more about where they are supposed to go after school than do their parents. They informed me today of their babysitters' phone numbers, day care facility names and numbers, and grandmothers' cell phone numbers when their own mothers could not. Amazing.
3. Small children do not eat their lunch; they play with it. They stick fruit and cheese into their straws, spill their milk, eat only their snack, and throw the healthy stuff away.
4. In addition to playing with said lunches, children cannot open milk cartons, sandwich bags, or any plastic containers. I think I opened more cartons, packages, and containers in one day than I have in the last five years.
5. Small children need their shoes tied, faces wiped, and pants pulled up after leaving the restroom. Repetitively.
6. Small children get lost during the short walk from their classroom to the bathroom across the hall.
7. Small children are incredibly happy (when they aren't crying). They get happy about everything--walking to class, turning in attendance and sundry other duties, eating lunch, and especially about learning.
8. Small children love their teachers. It's like love at first sight. They just met their teachers today and were only with them for four short hours; yet, close relationships are already forming.
9. Small children are very funny. They find everything funny. They laugh loudly and from their bellies. It is amazing.
10. Small children give out a lot of hugs--unashamedly. They hug everyone--teachers, cafeteria staff, custodians, and office staff. I have to admit, the hugs were by the far the highlight of my day.
I think the little guys are going to grow on me very quickly.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Sameness = Equality?
So today turned out to be one of those phenomenal teaching days--the kind that gives teachers warm, fuzzy satisfaction and renewed affirmation. I'll bring you up to speed so you can follow...
I currently teach composition to seniors--and not just any seniors; I teach second semester, college-bound seniors who have not only paid their deposits to myriad universities, but seniors who are clearly suffering from serious cases of "senioritis." Needless to say, teaching has been quite a challenge over the last few weeks, as I have not only had to contend with the aforementioned senioritis, but also with Senior Spirit Week, the prom, Senior Skip Day, and the like.
In an attempt to try and maintain some decorum in my classroom (as well as practice crowd-control), I decided to end the year with short fiction. I reasoned with my classes that reading short fiction was the alternative to writing yet another long paper, and they eagerly complied.
One such story was Kurt Vonnegut's "Harrison Bergeron." I urge you to read it if you haven't; however, in a nutshell, it is a story set in 2081 and depicts society as having achieved absolute equality in every way. Equality is reached by handicapping all citizens so that they are all--in effec--the same. As Vonnegut puts it, "Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else."
The students seemed to enjoy the story, and they dutifully completed their discussion questions as assigned. But I wasn't quite satisfied with their collective passivity in completing the assignment. I began to think of ways that I could get students to really think about the implications of a society where everyone is the same, and I wanted them to decide whether being "the same" was the same as being "equal."
Today when students walked in, I had them organize themselves into groups. I wrote down various activities on strips of paper, and instructed each group to choose one. Each slip of paper asked the group to perform a collective activity. Once they were settled and understood what it was they were being asked to do, I walked around the class and assigned each student a "handicap"--in the spirit of "Harrison Bergeron." Each student was instructed to function within the group as though they had that handicap. The different handicaps assigned ranged from deafness to blindness to loss of limb use to Tourette's Syndrome (and many others). Each student had a different disability to "own" and quickly learn how to live with. Needless to say, this made their group work very interesting, but also very difficult. I watched them all quietly as they struggled to complete their assignments with their "disabilities" hindering them.
Once students had worked to complete their assigned activities, I asked them to reflect on their experiences. We discussed how they felt about their disabilities, and many of them responded by saying that it was terribly hard to function. We also discussed whether or not they felt that they were all equal within their groups because they all had a disability to contend with. None of them thought they were equal, which led us into a discussion about how none of us are born equal in every way. Some people are smarter than others, some are better looking than others, some are more athletic than others, etc. They, however, felt that equality is possible, but that making everyone the same is not the way to do it. Their discussion and insights were amazing.
As a teacher, I was astounded on several levels. First, I was impressed that my seniors were eager to participate and actually "owned" their disabilities. Second, they were able to use their role-playing to truly investigate whether or not sameness equals equality. Finally, they were brutally honest in their discussion regarding sameness and equality--which is what I respected most of all. All too often we want to pretend that we are all equal to one another; unfortunately, we are anything but. It is painful to admit that we do see each other as different (and often inferior) because of our differences (and disabilities).
I am so very fortunate to have the privilege of spending the past year with these amazing young adults. They are so bright, yet so fun to teach! I know I will miss them terribly in a few weeks when they are gone. Lately, after I have had one of these amazing days, I wonder if this will be my last year experiencing such satisfaction from my profession. I immediately panic, and I wonder if I am making the right decision to transition into administration.
In the meantime, though, I'll just enjoy the short ride that I have left.
I currently teach composition to seniors--and not just any seniors; I teach second semester, college-bound seniors who have not only paid their deposits to myriad universities, but seniors who are clearly suffering from serious cases of "senioritis." Needless to say, teaching has been quite a challenge over the last few weeks, as I have not only had to contend with the aforementioned senioritis, but also with Senior Spirit Week, the prom, Senior Skip Day, and the like.
In an attempt to try and maintain some decorum in my classroom (as well as practice crowd-control), I decided to end the year with short fiction. I reasoned with my classes that reading short fiction was the alternative to writing yet another long paper, and they eagerly complied.
One such story was Kurt Vonnegut's "Harrison Bergeron." I urge you to read it if you haven't; however, in a nutshell, it is a story set in 2081 and depicts society as having achieved absolute equality in every way. Equality is reached by handicapping all citizens so that they are all--in effec--the same. As Vonnegut puts it, "Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else."
The students seemed to enjoy the story, and they dutifully completed their discussion questions as assigned. But I wasn't quite satisfied with their collective passivity in completing the assignment. I began to think of ways that I could get students to really think about the implications of a society where everyone is the same, and I wanted them to decide whether being "the same" was the same as being "equal."
Today when students walked in, I had them organize themselves into groups. I wrote down various activities on strips of paper, and instructed each group to choose one. Each slip of paper asked the group to perform a collective activity. Once they were settled and understood what it was they were being asked to do, I walked around the class and assigned each student a "handicap"--in the spirit of "Harrison Bergeron." Each student was instructed to function within the group as though they had that handicap. The different handicaps assigned ranged from deafness to blindness to loss of limb use to Tourette's Syndrome (and many others). Each student had a different disability to "own" and quickly learn how to live with. Needless to say, this made their group work very interesting, but also very difficult. I watched them all quietly as they struggled to complete their assignments with their "disabilities" hindering them.
Once students had worked to complete their assigned activities, I asked them to reflect on their experiences. We discussed how they felt about their disabilities, and many of them responded by saying that it was terribly hard to function. We also discussed whether or not they felt that they were all equal within their groups because they all had a disability to contend with. None of them thought they were equal, which led us into a discussion about how none of us are born equal in every way. Some people are smarter than others, some are better looking than others, some are more athletic than others, etc. They, however, felt that equality is possible, but that making everyone the same is not the way to do it. Their discussion and insights were amazing.
As a teacher, I was astounded on several levels. First, I was impressed that my seniors were eager to participate and actually "owned" their disabilities. Second, they were able to use their role-playing to truly investigate whether or not sameness equals equality. Finally, they were brutally honest in their discussion regarding sameness and equality--which is what I respected most of all. All too often we want to pretend that we are all equal to one another; unfortunately, we are anything but. It is painful to admit that we do see each other as different (and often inferior) because of our differences (and disabilities).
I am so very fortunate to have the privilege of spending the past year with these amazing young adults. They are so bright, yet so fun to teach! I know I will miss them terribly in a few weeks when they are gone. Lately, after I have had one of these amazing days, I wonder if this will be my last year experiencing such satisfaction from my profession. I immediately panic, and I wonder if I am making the right decision to transition into administration.
In the meantime, though, I'll just enjoy the short ride that I have left.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Oh, the Irony...
When I began this blog, I never intended on blogging on a daily basis; however, I must offer an apology. I just read over my entry from last night, and while I was reading, I found quite a few typographical errors. Certainly, it was late when I composed my entry last night, and I was tired, etc. I have excuses--however, I find it quite ironic that I was posting about my love of teaching writing, what amazing writers my students had become, and how I was so proud that my students had embraced revision. I apparently did not follow my own revision teachings while I was composing last night.
I have since corrected the errors in my writing. If you find any more of them, please do let me know.
You might want to check out this video of Taylor Mali--an amazing poet and former teacher. He composed a spoken word piece about proofreading entitled, "The The Impotence of Proofreading." It is hysterical, and he speaks the truth. I definitely need to follow his advice--and my own.
Enjoy!
I have since corrected the errors in my writing. If you find any more of them, please do let me know.
You might want to check out this video of Taylor Mali--an amazing poet and former teacher. He composed a spoken word piece about proofreading entitled, "The The Impotence of Proofreading." It is hysterical, and he speaks the truth. I definitely need to follow his advice--and my own.
Enjoy!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
In Love with Teaching
Today was one of those perfect teaching days. I can't believe that after almost fifteen years, I am still fortunate enough to have them.
This is how it went--
My planning--which is first thing in the morning--was incredibly productive. I caught up on all of my grading, did some reading for class, and even worked on a project for my internship. Needless to say, I was completely ready for my second block College Composition class.
First, let me say that my seniors already have the dreaded illness known as "senioritis." They are consumed with Spring Break plans and Prom, and most have been accepted into colleges and universities. Needless to say, they are a bit full of themselves.
About two weeks ago, I assigned them a rather unpleasant assignment (by their standards)--an argument analysis. To put it briefly--and so I don't bore my friends and family--they had to choose a topic that typically has two opposing views, find two articles that supported each side, read them, and then analyze the differences. Basically, the idea of the assignment was that they choose a topic they are truly interested in. Of course, I expected them to choose the usual topics--abortion, the death penalty, and same sex marriage; therefore, I told them up front that they weren't allowed to choose these (not that I have a problem with any of them--but we had spent an entire week using same sex marriage as a topic for class discussion).
Once the assignment was given and they were aware of all of the specifics, I left them to their work. They've been working steadily for about five days--most of them as quiet as mice. Today they had a draft due, and were scheduled to meet in their Reading/ Writing Groups (basically revision groups for those of you who don't teach writing). I separated them into their groups and gave them the green light to begin sharing their essays with one another. I let them get started and then began circulating around the room, casually stopping by each group and listening to them read their essays aloud.
I was not prepared for what I heard from my students. Their essays were absolutely amazing. The topics they had chosen were poignant and meaningful. I walked around and listened to my students discussing and analyzing topics such as atheism, adoption, bilingual education, doves v. hawks (political groups), vegetarianism, and euthanasia. I gave them no guidance; I merely showed them some databases they could use for help. My students had actually behaved like college students--they had taken care in choosing a topic and more importantly--had taken care in analyzing their articles.
It may not sound like much, but I was so incredibly proud of them. And after reveling in my pride, I then realized that everything I had taught them about the process of writing and revision was actually coming to fruition right in front of me. At the beginning of the year, it felt as though I wouldn't be successful in getting them to grasp the importance of planning, writing and rewriting, and most importantly--revision. These seniors, however, had grasped it.
I rode my teacher-high for the rest of the day, and I think my teacher-high will carry me through the weekend.
I hope I always remember how my students make me feel as long as I'm in the business of education. After almost fifteen years, I really still do love being a teacher.
This is how it went--
My planning--which is first thing in the morning--was incredibly productive. I caught up on all of my grading, did some reading for class, and even worked on a project for my internship. Needless to say, I was completely ready for my second block College Composition class.
First, let me say that my seniors already have the dreaded illness known as "senioritis." They are consumed with Spring Break plans and Prom, and most have been accepted into colleges and universities. Needless to say, they are a bit full of themselves.
About two weeks ago, I assigned them a rather unpleasant assignment (by their standards)--an argument analysis. To put it briefly--and so I don't bore my friends and family--they had to choose a topic that typically has two opposing views, find two articles that supported each side, read them, and then analyze the differences. Basically, the idea of the assignment was that they choose a topic they are truly interested in. Of course, I expected them to choose the usual topics--abortion, the death penalty, and same sex marriage; therefore, I told them up front that they weren't allowed to choose these (not that I have a problem with any of them--but we had spent an entire week using same sex marriage as a topic for class discussion).
Once the assignment was given and they were aware of all of the specifics, I left them to their work. They've been working steadily for about five days--most of them as quiet as mice. Today they had a draft due, and were scheduled to meet in their Reading/ Writing Groups (basically revision groups for those of you who don't teach writing). I separated them into their groups and gave them the green light to begin sharing their essays with one another. I let them get started and then began circulating around the room, casually stopping by each group and listening to them read their essays aloud.
I was not prepared for what I heard from my students. Their essays were absolutely amazing. The topics they had chosen were poignant and meaningful. I walked around and listened to my students discussing and analyzing topics such as atheism, adoption, bilingual education, doves v. hawks (political groups), vegetarianism, and euthanasia. I gave them no guidance; I merely showed them some databases they could use for help. My students had actually behaved like college students--they had taken care in choosing a topic and more importantly--had taken care in analyzing their articles.
It may not sound like much, but I was so incredibly proud of them. And after reveling in my pride, I then realized that everything I had taught them about the process of writing and revision was actually coming to fruition right in front of me. At the beginning of the year, it felt as though I wouldn't be successful in getting them to grasp the importance of planning, writing and rewriting, and most importantly--revision. These seniors, however, had grasped it.
I rode my teacher-high for the rest of the day, and I think my teacher-high will carry me through the weekend.
I hope I always remember how my students make me feel as long as I'm in the business of education. After almost fifteen years, I really still do love being a teacher.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
To Grandmother's House We Go...
Today I traveled to historic Mathews County, VA--along with Mom, Dad, Meredith, and Gillian--to visit my Granny. Anyone who knows me well knows the situation with my grandmother. For those of you who don't, long story short--she lives alone in a very rural town, doesn't receive many visitors (if any), and is suffering from Parkinson's Disease. I don't see her enough because I am "busy."
Each time I visit her, I leave near tears. I realize that I have gradually become one of those women who was once close to her grandmothers but has since grown entirely too busy to fit them in on a regular basis. Honestly, I know I am making excuses; however, I don't know how I can fit in regular visits with either one of my grandmothers in between teaching full-time, teaching part-time, working on a third degree, parenting, wife-ing, soccer practices, baseball practices, and working on an internship. The list could really go on and on.
If anyone out there has any creative ideas on how I can improve this area of my life, I would love to hear them. In the meantime, I'll continue to worry about a grandmother who desperately needs to see family on a regular basis. Sigh.
Each time I visit her, I leave near tears. I realize that I have gradually become one of those women who was once close to her grandmothers but has since grown entirely too busy to fit them in on a regular basis. Honestly, I know I am making excuses; however, I don't know how I can fit in regular visits with either one of my grandmothers in between teaching full-time, teaching part-time, working on a third degree, parenting, wife-ing, soccer practices, baseball practices, and working on an internship. The list could really go on and on.
If anyone out there has any creative ideas on how I can improve this area of my life, I would love to hear them. In the meantime, I'll continue to worry about a grandmother who desperately needs to see family on a regular basis. Sigh.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Cell Phones, Bullying, and Disrespectful Kids...Oh My!
So this might have been the most eye-opening week of my fifteen-year teaching career. I filled in as a psuedo-administrator (or as the Athletic Director called me, "Second String Administrator")this week to help out. I was excited about the opportunity when I was asked--and I'm still incredibly excited that I was able to help out. I just wasn't prepared for what actually occurred.
Within the first hour of my pseudo-adminstrative duties, I encountered a young lady who needed to be taken away by paramedics for taking some sort of medication that she wasn't necessarily prescribed. This was quickly followed by a fleet of referrals for ill-behaved students, which took me almost two bells to dig my way out of. Oh, and this particular day was St. Patrick's Day, so I had to contend with students wearing green wigs, green hats, and sundry other green paraphrenalia--all of which are against school policy.
The next day brought even more drama and fun-filled referrals--kids walking out of classes without permission, kids throwing paper balls, kids throwing pennies, kids throwing other kids (aka "fights"), and the like. And to add to this laundry list of craziness, a teacher fell out from a reaction of some sort, and a student made up stories about not having any food at home (and then went to the clinic and ate three bags of chips from her purse).
Amazingly, after such an insane few days, I am more sure than ever that I have made the right decision to pursue an administrative role in a secondary school. I'll admit--I'm tired. But I certainly am ready.
Within the first hour of my pseudo-adminstrative duties, I encountered a young lady who needed to be taken away by paramedics for taking some sort of medication that she wasn't necessarily prescribed. This was quickly followed by a fleet of referrals for ill-behaved students, which took me almost two bells to dig my way out of. Oh, and this particular day was St. Patrick's Day, so I had to contend with students wearing green wigs, green hats, and sundry other green paraphrenalia--all of which are against school policy.
The next day brought even more drama and fun-filled referrals--kids walking out of classes without permission, kids throwing paper balls, kids throwing pennies, kids throwing other kids (aka "fights"), and the like. And to add to this laundry list of craziness, a teacher fell out from a reaction of some sort, and a student made up stories about not having any food at home (and then went to the clinic and ate three bags of chips from her purse).
Amazingly, after such an insane few days, I am more sure than ever that I have made the right decision to pursue an administrative role in a secondary school. I'll admit--I'm tired. But I certainly am ready.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Virgin Blogger
I am constantly writing--just not in one collective place. At the moment, I have three different notebooks full of random pennings, not to mention all of the sticky notes, to-do lists, and reminders that are scattered all over my desk. None of these, however, include all of the writing that I do for work or for school. Blogging seems like the next progressive step in finding yet another place to write.
I am going to attempt to make this blog as honest as possible, although I will admit that the idea of exposing my writing to potentially anyone is a bit uncomfortable. This blogging thing has been on my bucket list for awhile, so I am going to give it the old college try.
While "designing" this blog (choosing a name and a template), I mentally tossed around ideas for my first posting. I really wanted to come off as sincere, but also witty. I usually do witty pretty well, but now I feel rather exposed (which goes along with the whole blogging thing); hence, my wit has failed me.
At the moment, all that I can think about is the emergency budgeting meeting I have to attend tomorrow, and I am worried about what else my students will be losing in the fall. It makes me queasy to think about it all, so I'm not going to get into that this evening.
I hope I'm able to stick with this blogging thing...
I am going to attempt to make this blog as honest as possible, although I will admit that the idea of exposing my writing to potentially anyone is a bit uncomfortable. This blogging thing has been on my bucket list for awhile, so I am going to give it the old college try.
While "designing" this blog (choosing a name and a template), I mentally tossed around ideas for my first posting. I really wanted to come off as sincere, but also witty. I usually do witty pretty well, but now I feel rather exposed (which goes along with the whole blogging thing); hence, my wit has failed me.
At the moment, all that I can think about is the emergency budgeting meeting I have to attend tomorrow, and I am worried about what else my students will be losing in the fall. It makes me queasy to think about it all, so I'm not going to get into that this evening.
I hope I'm able to stick with this blogging thing...
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